When the Monsters Come
by smiles1777
Summary: Itachi-centric Pre-massacre. The first time the monsters came for him, Itachi was four years old. He's been plagued by their existence ever since. Rated M for violence. One-shot.


**Rating: **R

**Summary:** The first time the monsters came for him, Itachi was four years old. He's been plagued by their existence ever since.

**Author's Notes:** Written for naruto_santa at LJ. Beta'd by alcyonev at LJ. 3

* * *

It was all too familiar. The clash of precisely thrown shuriken (clanking metallic _pings_ echoing in the confined space, he felt a sharp breeze against his cheek as one streaked inches from his face, slicing the air until a dull _thunk_ alerted him of its demise), the scuffle of dirt (his feet shifted and settled gracefully, a seemingly effortless feat as the dust disturbed by his movements created a cloud around his legs, dissipating slowly until he rocked his heel and launched into another attack), and the mystic calm that settled over him (the constant reminder of his mission, his ever-present confirmation of will), it was all so similar, too similar to the night when he sealed his fate.

He was losing his ability to separate past from present. Memories collided with his senses, ebbing and flowing in a hazy mix not unlike his own genjutsu. With every punch, he saw his shocked neighbors fall at his hands. With every fire jutsu, he saw the confused betrayal in his girlfriend's eyes. With every blocked strike from Sasuke's sword, he saw his father's resignation, his mother's mourning. He felt the blood from that night running down his face, dripping guilt and consequence from his cursed and faded eye.

He clung to the contrasts and differences, desperate to stay in the moment. Uchiha symbols still surrounded him, but these were dull, faded artifacts, abandoned long before he was even involved in this mess, cracked and broken like the dark history of their clan. He still felt the presence of another, amused and evaluating, split personalities discussing and predicting his every move, but it was much less sinister, less taunting, the split less distinct. The pain in his body was stronger than before, acidic and dissolving instead of dull and throbbing, coursing through his veins, circling the disease through organs and limbs that had already been infected. The world still dripped red and spun with a dizzying explosion of colored chakra, but it was darker now, fading and blurred.

He fought the darkness and blurred images his eyes provided. Fought the emergence of the nightmares he lived with, and struggled toward his light, his hope, his salvation. His brother.

* * *

The first time the monsters came for him, Itachi was four years old.

He stood amongst the broken ruins of what used to be his uncle's shop. Or at least what he thought was his uncle's shop, though he could no longer recognize any of its features, or those of the shops surrounding it. They had been broken in the blast, a fire jutsu if the smell was anything to go by, the acrid scent of ash and what he would later recognize as human flesh rich in the still night air.

He gazed up at the dark sky, the ceiling of the shop now in pieces at his feet. A small sliver of moon provided the only light, just enough to illuminate a torn Uchiha banner hanging sideways on a portion of wall that had somehow survived. He remembered it used to sit above the register. Sagging on one side, his aunt would always cluck at his uncle to straighten it. He clenched his teeth together and wrapped his arms around his suddenly shivering shoulders despite the warm night. His aunt lay in a puddle of her own blood several feet away, face distorted and inhuman. He couldn't see his uncle, but somehow he knew he would never see him again.

He listened intently to the stillness that surrounded him, wishing for a sound to drown out the memories of screams and yelling and death, yet terrified to hear anything. A click, a shuffle, even his own breathing would remind him of the emptiness.

His aunt had shoved him toward the basement when the chorus of bells had rung from the Hokage's tower, instructing him not to emerge until she fetched him. He stayed there, huddled in a blanket, eyes wide and hands shaking as the unmistakable sounds of kunai and shuriken hitting and missing their targets filtered through the walls protecting him. The sounds soon turned more violent, crashes and blasts, and terrifying screams that still rung in his ears, until an even more terrifying silence transcended the space around him. He didn't know how long he stayed there – days, hours, minutes, perhaps time no longer existed.

He took a step forward, walking toward a trail of dying smoke on the horizon. His bare feet hit something cold and sharp, he stumbled and fell, scraping his knee and palms. A gentle _oof_ escaped his lips. He raised his head and stared into the lifeless eyes of that nice uncle who used to sell dango. Except now he wasn't that nice uncle. A kunai was lodged deep in his neck, blood still dripped steadily in small droplets from his wound to the ground where Itachi's hands had landed. He could feel blood sticky and slimy on his hand, red, red, terrifying and red.

_Monsters._

Monsters with human faces and inhuman expressions. Monsters that looked just like him, his aunt, all the people he knew. They came in the night and placed him in hell.

He struggled onto his feet once more, eyes stinging with unshed tears, heart pounding with horror and adrenaline, praying for daylight in a world of darkness as he stumbled through the rumble and miles of corpses, unsure of where to go, just needing to be _away_.

That was the first time the monsters came for him.

* * *

He awoke to the sound he never wished to hear again. A sublime echoing of ringing bells weaved through the night, entered their home (no place was safe), travelled uninvited into his bed, curling around and suffocating him. He bolted out from under the covers. They were no longer warm and comforting, but cold and tainted. The ringing would not stop. The sound of hell.

His mother hurriedly slid his door open, a still-sleeping infant Sasuke clutched in her arms. Her eyes were quick and decisive. She was dressed in ninja wear he'd only ever seen her don once before (that night the bells of hell also rang, but he did not find her until the morning). She advanced forward quickly but quietly, until she knelt in front of him. She looked at him with a smile that could not hide the terror in her eyes as she placed his tiny little brother within his still arms.

She brushed a bang from his face to place behind his ear. "Itachi," she whispered, her voice harsh with worry that not even the bells could drown out, "the village is under attack. Do you understand?" He nodded his head slightly in acknowledgement. She continued, "Can you protect Sasuke?"

He gazed down on the small infant in his hands, eyes shut tight and chubby face relaxed in sleep. Barely two months old, he had a large puff of jet-black hair on his head that stood in all directions, his impossibly small hands curling and uncurling as he continued to dream. Could he protect this tiny creature?

"Yes," he mumbled quietly, his eyes never leaving the bundle of blue blankets and black hair and happy sighs.

He heard his mother sigh and felt her press a kiss to his forehead. "You're far too understanding for your age, Itachi," she muttered, though he was not sure if she meant for him to reply or if she was speaking to herself. She bent to kiss Sasuke's head, her black hair shielding her face from view. "I'm sorry."

She left the room through his bedroom window, into the chaos and violence and world of monsters that he knew awaited her. He watched the wind blow his white curtains up and around, twisting and pulling at its will, a ghostly apparition playing puppet to forces beyond.

He sat just beyond the reach of creeping moonlight, bright and sparkling blue as it lit a path across his bed and created shadows where there had been nothing before.

He listened as the _cracks_ and _clanks_ grew closer, overpowering the bells, and drifted into his room, shrieks and confused yells and desperate wails of mourning, circling him, taunting him. He kept his eyes on the warm weight in his hands, watched as Sasuke fussed slightly before settling back to sleep.

Time no longer existed. The monsters destroy that first, so they can keep you in hell for eternity before a second has passed. There was no such thing as time, and soon he knew there would be no such thing as space, just like before. The ceiling would collapse, the walls would attack, and the world would be made of corpses and monsters' faces….

He jolted back suddenly, disoriented and confused. The room was cold, he felt the ground shake and realized part of the wall had already caved in. He wondered if he had fallen asleep or if reality changed with one blink of his eye. He blinked his eyes again, struggling to draw breath into his lungs, suddenly realizing he had not been breathing. No longer did the blue light of the moon illuminate the room. His eyes followed the moon's gaze, satin red staining the sky, the walls, trailing down to Sasuke.

His eyes widened. Sasuke was kicking and screaming, face tight and wet with tears that would not stop flowing. He clutched the infant tightly to him and used the wall to support him as he stood, legs heavy and burning. It was different now. He had to protect his little brother. His little brother didn't know about the monsters. He rocked his arms to soothe the child and hoped he could keep that dreadful knowledge from his brother forever.

He made his way to their roof, stumbling over his own legs and feet, desperate to reach higher ground, away from the corpses and rivers of blood he knew would be outside.

The air was crisp and biting, the roof bathed in red. He saw nine tails in the distance, and a snarling face that would terrify any war-hardened ninja. But that wasn't the monster. That was a demon, evil and powerful, but with no pretense or charm. It was destruction, but it had no power over reality.

The real master of hell was the man who stood silently in the distance, arms crossed, long black hair flowing in the wind, a striped mask hiding his face. And a Sharingan swirling.

He kept his head up and his eyes narrowed, an arm covering Sasuke in protection when the monster glanced toward them. The monster lifted a hand in mock greeting before disappearing in a flash of red. Itachi watched in silence, rocking his brother in his arms, until the nine tails disappeared from the night sky and silence prevailed over the wreckage.

He turned sharply when he heard a sound behind him, recognizing his father as the man approached them, blood dripping from his hands, staining his clothes.

_Monster's blood_.

His face bespoke relief and exhaustion.

_A human's face_.

His Sharingan—_monster's eyes_—deactivated back to small black irises—_human's eyes_—as he knelt before his sons, placing a hand drenched in dark red blood on Itachi's shoulder.

Itachi flinched back, eyes wide, arms tightening over Sasuke. _Monsters, humans, monsters with human faces, humans with monster eyes._ He didn't know what reality was anymore, couldn't distinguish between the faces he knew and those he feared, or if there ever had been a difference.

His father retracted his hand, face a mask, always a mask, hiding the monster within. "You boys alright?" he asked.

The monster was pretending to be human. Pretending, deceiving. Itachi nodded, and patted Sasuke's back lightly.

"Where's your mother?"

He wondered if his mother also hid those monster's eyes, or if she was prey like he was, unsure of what he should tell the monster who looked like his father.

Apparently he took too long to answer, since hands gripped his shoulders tight, blood transferring onto his night shirt. "Itachi, where's your mother?"

He wondered vaguely at the concern he heard in its voice, before answering honestly, "I don't know."

He watched his father's eyes widen. His father's eyes, yes, these were human eyes, filled with concern and worry and love. He stared in confusion, unable to understand the transition between monster to human, not sure what to trust, when to trust.

"Stay here and take care of Sasuke. I'll—" His father trailed off and turned his head as stumbling sounds were heard from the staircase leading onto the roof. Immediately he took a defensive stance, shielding his sons behind him, only to drop his kunai.

His mother emerged from the staircase, her clothes torn and bloodied, leaning heavily against the wall to support herself. She lifted her face, eyes glistening, face streaked with dirt and blood and two clear lines trailing down her cheeks where tears had washed them clean. "The Hoka—" she started, before sobs wracked her shoulders and she folded within herself, collapsing onto the ground. "The Hokage is dead," she managed to whisper as her husband rushed to her side, checking for injuries.

Itachi stumbled backwards, hitting a wall, head spinning and unnoticed tears spilling from his eyes.

The Hokage had fallen. The village was in ruins.

The monsters would return.

* * *

They were moved into a corner of the village under the guise of reconstruction after the attack of the Kyuubi. He knew better, though; they were being segregated. The village saw the monsters within the clan.

The segregation went as far as the genin team he was assigned to; Uchihas were teamed up with Uchihas only. They explained it as better training opportunities, though they never could explain why the Hyuuga were not treated the same way. It didn't matter anyway. No team, no matter the members, wanted a seven-year-old supposed genius.

Shisui was the exception. The older boy took Itachi under his wing, mentored him, comforted him, and saved his life countless times on the missions they completed together. Shisui was everything Itachi strived to be for Sasuke.

They often spent sunny afternoons on the banks of the Nakano River. Most of the time they just watched the flowing river, communicating only through relaxed hand gestures and quiet smiles. On occasion, though, they would verbalize their thoughts.

"Monsters, huh?" Shisui repeated, still watching the running river. He saw Itachi nod from the corner of his eye and smiled without mirth. "Yeah, I can see that. You were what? Three? Four?"

"Four," Itachi replied, feet edging into the cold water.

Shisui sighed and ran a hand through his hair, dislodging the curls haphazardly. "War is a kind of hell, I guess." He turned to smile at Itachi. "But monsters only live up here," he tapped his head with his index finger. "Ultimately we decide whether they have power over us or not."

Itachi smiled back at Shisui, secure in his reassurance that monsters did not exist.

He was wrong.

* * *

The world was red. With dizzying streaks of blue and green and yellow and purple and every imaginable shade of red possible.

He felt a pain in his side, sharp and insistent. He tasted salt and metal in his mouth, unsure if it was from the kunai he'd bitten on or the blood from his busted lip.

He saw movement from the corner of his eye—enemy nin, comrade, monster, he did not know. Fluidly, he reached for a kunai, the motion smooth and quick. He noticed a strange calmness about him, the air hummed with hidden knowledge and open secrets, vibrating against his skin, pulsing into his veins, infecting his blood. The weapon left his hand not by conscious intention, but by instinct, flying not to where his opponent was, but to _where he would be_.

His stance faltered momentarily under the weight of his realization. Time had accelerated and yet everything had come to a crawl. He possessed knowledge of what was to come, the hypnotizing colors guiding and mocking him.

_He controlled time_.

He searched frantically for some sign of the world he just left, unsure anymore of what was real and what was imagined, altered. What was his reality anyway? He couldn't even be certain the other world wasn't the illusion.

_All in your mind, all in your mind_, he chanted to himself repeatedly, the mantra uttered faster and faster as he found he was unable to grab hold of that reassurance he treasured.

Reality was unchanging, reality was truth. It could not be altered. _All in your mind_.

He stumbled backwards into a tree, eyes wide and stinging. Horror filled his very core as the assailant he'd disposed of previously crawled toward him, kunai lodged deep in the bridge of his nose, eyes gouged and hanging slightly out of their sockets.

_Monsters_.

Only monsters brought that deathly shade of silk red. Only monsters controlled time.

_He controlled time_.

The monster's teeth transformed, sharp and glistening with the blood of unknown victims. He snarled and foamed at the mouth. Horns grew, popping out of his forehead, his ears. Claws where hands should be.

_All in your mind_.

He heard a shout— a name? His name?

_Monsters hiding in human faces_.

It wasn't a name, it was bells. He could hear them clearly now, the sound of cascading bells harkening hell's terrifying ascent. His ears stung, his breath labored, his heart beat an erratic arrhythmia.

_Which was real—the human or the monster?_

He felt a power hum just under his skin, burning cold and seductive. They were giving him power, why were the monsters giving him power?

Hurt, pain, it hurt so much. His eyes hurt, throbbed, he couldn't blink, couldn't look away. The world spun, blending colors of red and blue and green and yellow. Blending, mixing, spinning, diming.

Darkness fell over him before he collapsed to the ground.

* * *

He awoke in his bed, hushed whispers in a harsh discussion just outside his door, the silhouettes of his mother and father visible through the thin paper.

"You know what this means for the clan."

"You can't be serious. He's just a little boy."

"And he activated the Sharingan. Eight years old and he mastered genjutsu without any prior training."

"He got _caught_ within his own genjutsu. Do you realize how terrified he must have been?"

"We live in a harsh world. Sacrifices must be made."

"You would sacrifice your own son?"

"You cannot shield him forever, Mikoto."

"I will _not_ let you use him as a pawn in your game of politics." Itachi didn't recognized the calm, volatile anger in his mother's usually soft-spoken voice.

"You know very well it isn't a game. Our clan is being pushed out, isolated. We were herded together to this complex; we can't sell our goods in the village. They are going to wipe all of us out if we don't do something."

"He is your _son_."

"Do you think they'll let him live?!" Fugaku's outburst echoed through the room and hallway before a tense silence descended yet again. "His training begins tomorrow."

Itachi heard shuffling and watched his father's shadow turn away from his mother.

"Promise me." His mother's voice was small and desperate. "Promise me he's the only one. You will not involve Sasuke."

Itachi watched with abated breath in the ensuing silence, broken finally by his father's deep sigh.

"Sasuke will remain untouched by the sins of the clan. You have my word."

* * *

Days later, shackled with the darkest secrets of the Uchiha clan hidden beneath the seventh tatami mat of the Nakano Shrine, as he watched Sasuke joyfully march his bright green dinosaur stuffie across their backyard, Itachi understood his mother's sentiment.

Their clan was birthed in demonic rage and violence, blood warring against blood. Their power came from jealousy and betrayal. Monsters didn't exist as creatures with horns and fangs and claws like he had so convincingly conjured up in his genjutsu. Monsters were the evil thoughts and hateful feelings beneath the mask of humanity. They were the real monsters, the masters of hell. It had always been them, the Uchihas.

Sasuke giggled when his toy flopped over, pudgy fingers clumsily attempting to right his friend again.

_The Mangekyo Sharingan, the power to control the darkest forces of this world. The only price, the life of your closest friend, a small debt indeed_.

Sasuke tumbled over himself, rolling along the grass to the pristine pond. He stuck a hand in to splash the cool water, delighting in the droplets sprayed in all directions.

_Darkness followed darkness. The Mangekyo Sharingan would fade, plunging its user into darkness and rendering all sacrifices useless_.

The three-year-old padded over to his brother, hands outstretched and eyes wide with laughter. "Nii-chan!"

_Brothers' eyes, tradable, salvation from sins committed in vain. One transcends into eternal darkness, one burdened by endless light._

"Nii-chan, up!" Sasuke whined, opening and closing his outstretched palms.

Itachi bent to pick up his brother, adjusting the toddler to fit snuggly on his hip and smiled. "What are we playing?"

Sasuke grinned and pointed a finger at his dinosaur, which the child had successfully propped against a rock. "He's a monster, an' we hafta fight 'im."

Itachi tightened his hold on his little brother, eyes distant and clouding. "Don't worry. I won't let the monster get you."


End file.
